His hand finds mine on the center console. Warm. Steady. "I know that too."
The highway unspools ahead of us. My father's taillights glow red in the darkness, steady and sure. Kane's and Carter's trucks behind Matthew's, a solid block of metal and intention.
"You'll have your parents," Trenton says. "Kane, Sydney, Carter. Greyson's sending more. The cabin is defensible as my dad used it for club meetings back when he wanted to be somewhere no one could find."
"I don't care about the cabin being defensible. I care about you coming back."
He doesn't answer right away. The miles tick past. The dashboard clock reads 3:47 a.m. The world outside the windows is empty and black and full of places a man could be hiding.
"We'll come back," he says finally. "That's the whole point of going. So we can come back to a house where no one is watching from the trees. So Charlie can sleep without asking us to check on her. So you can walk to the mailbox without looking over your shoulder."
I press my forehead against the cool glass of the window and close my eyes.
"Promise me," I whisper.
"I can't promise that."
"I know. Promise me anyway."
His thumb traces a circle on the back of my hand. "I promise we do this right. I promise we don't rush it. I promise Matthew and I don't split up. I promise we use the club's resources, every eye, every contact, every favor we've got banked. I promise we bring enough firepower that if it goes loud, it goes loud in our favor."
It's not the promise I asked for, but it's the only promise he'll make, and I love him more for it.
"When do you leave?"
"We get you settled at the cabin, check the perimeter, and make sure the communication setup is solid. Then we go."
"How long?"
"As long as it takes."
I look back at Charlie. Her face is peaceful in sleep, her small body curled around her unicorn, her hair falling across her cheek. I think about the deer head on our porch. The note. The men kneeling in our driveway. The way Harris watched us from somewhere in the dark while we thought we were the ones watching.
"Okay," I say.
Trenton glances at me. "Okay?"
"You do what you have to do. I'll keep her safe at the cabin. But, Trenton?"
"Yeah."
"If he hurts either of you, I'm coming after him myself. And I won't be as clean about it."
A small smile has his lips twitching. It's gone before it fully forms, but I saw it.
"That's my girl."
We drive in silence for a while. The radio is off. The only sounds are the engine, the tires over asphalt, and Charlie's soft breathing from the back seat. I watch the landscape change as we climb into the mountains, the trees thickening, the road narrowing, the sky opening up above us in a way it can't in town.
My phone buzzes. Matthew, in the group chat Trenton set up for the convoy.
Cabin in 40. Dad confirmed the key is under the rail. Heat's on. Supplies stocked.
I type back, Copy. Charlie's asleep.
Trenton's phone lights up with the same messages. He reads them, nods once, and slides it back into the cupholder.
"Matthew's already thinking three steps ahead," I say.
